Hawks by Proxy
by psychoanalyzedhawk
Summary: A gradual process revealing Matthew Brown's back story. Chapter 2 starts out with his relationship with Randall Tier which escalates as the story continues. (Event. possibility of Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter appearing.) Rated M for Violence, Sexual Themes/Content, Swearing, Etc. Matthew x Randall
1. Chapter 1 A Mindful Rant

(So, I was in class and decided to work on Matthew Brown's story. Yes, it will, in time, escalate to him and Will. I was sort of reflecting on the time I spent studying psychology online. It's short, but it's part 1 of many. Feel free to spill out your thoughts. **It helps if you read it in his voice.)**

I'd suggest skipping to Chapter 2 actually.  
Here is just a little insert of how Matthew got out of the Hospital, whilst Chapter 2 is where the real action begins.

* * *

The branches of psychology are of variety, but my very being reflects mainly on the "Law of Psychological Adaptation."Having spent time in a mental institution I was forced to adapt to the uncomfortable changes that were thrown at me. An example of this would be.. Forced therapy. The cliché "How does that make you feel?" drilling into my brain as each second crawled by like a worm from a bird. It's enough to make any man go crazy if he already isn't crazy enough.

After having listened to the routine bullshit long enough to their satisfaction I was finally granted leave back to my holding cell where I then recollected my thoughts for pondering. It was something that I did quite frequently to keep the clock works of my mind occupied. That, however, was not the only reason why I toyed with my thoughts. Without failure there was always something useful in there that helped reinforce my survival in such predicaments as these. Having spent, like I said, much time recalling each tiny detail of my memory I quickly remembered a much more important, yet obvious tactic that even animals themselves used- mimicry. Mimicry is typically used by animals to either imitate their prey or their predator. In this case, for me, everyone here was considered both. A tricky situation, but not too tricky for me to handle. Because, you see, humans themselves mimic others enough to one's contentment in order to obtain something they were wanting. This could be a friendship, self-confidence- you're getting where I am going with this right? If not, imagine seeing a person daily that you utmost envy. You'll basically do anything in your power in order to have that person's trust, acceptance, and/or recognition so you immediately turn your head towards imitation. You begin to dress like them, imitate their behavior, or simply agree with what they are saying. You especially tell them what they want to hear in order to gain one or more of the following that I had recently stated. Their trust is much more important in this case and now that I think about it.. Manipulation and mimicry appear to be in close ties with each other. Additionally this tactic worked just enough to have the therapists and the higher authorities convinced, having me immediately released without any hesitation whatsoever.


	2. Chapter 2: The Casual Meeting

Associations become difficult to gain when you don't represent the typical everyday person- Because as one thing follows another, it usually results in higher needs that typically make you have higher expectations of others. With enough observations and self-reflection, I was able to recognize several predators among the people by their symptoms that I "unfortunately" share, enabling me to establish connections with them- and that's where it leaves me now.

After a brisk job interview at the Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane I quickly made haste back to my home near the outskirts of Birdfoot Ln, Virginia, where I was expecting a visitor who frequently appeared near the brim of midnight for some "casual conversation" as we'd like to refer to it as.

As I finally pulled into the unattended gravel of my driveway and executed the casual precautions to exit my car, a familiar being presented himself on my porch with a relieved expression on his face.

"Were you worried I wasn't going to show Randall? After all this is my house." A slight huff of a laugh rumbled in my throat after I spoke, allowing more tension to be gradually released from Randall's physique.

"Well, Matthew, as you know when you're a man who's facing untypical problems and doesn't want to be recognized you often wonder if the safety measures you take are enough to ensure your own safety."

With those words Randall gripped his now noticeable duffel bag in his hand, the muscles in his right arm tensing as the weight of the object inside the bag began to take its toll on his strength.

Taking notice of his movements I slowly paced up the brick steps of my porch, rummaging for my house keys in the clutter of my slacks.

"I can't say I don't agree with you.. Now, I think it's best we get inside before you..," I nodded to his bag, a sly grin tugging at the ends of my lips. ".. Wear out your arms. I'm sure you'll need them for later."

With a slight turn of my key the door progressively creaked open, permitting the two of us to enter the house to escape the uncomfortable conditions outside and be comforted with a much more reassuring warmth.

Randall's voice was significantly gentle as he talked, taking a quick glance around the living room before finally reestablishing eye contact with me from where I was sitting.

"You look very presentable today Matthew- Is there some sort of special occasion that I haven't had the pleasure of knowing since we had last met?"

"It's really nothing too notable. After being released from the institution, and having those records tucked and filed away from prying eyes, I decided to go ahead and apply as an orderly at the Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane. When you spend time in a mental hospital you pick up the drill. Enough about me though Randall- how's your job been at the Museum of Natural History?"

Almost as if it were a defensive instinct Randall casually slinked back towards the large duffel bag that he had placed near my chair earlier, eyeing me with a look of determination."That's actually something I need to talk to you about."


	3. Chapter 3: Wounded

**I'm deeply sorry for the hiatus. Here is Chapter 3, finally.  
**I spent a lot of my time deciding on where to take this and this is what I came up with within a few hours time.

I'm hoping to evolve Matthew and Randall's relationship to greater depths as the chapters continue.

**FEEDBACK ****_is greatly appreciated! _**

* * *

The planks of the dock creaked under my feet as I set walked upon them anxiously.  
This is the location Randall had directed me to in our previous conversation. Not giving me too much details, but just enough to get me to where I needed to be. _Or at least to where he wanted me to be. _

As I advanced further down the dock a silhouette of , what appeared to be, a body bag came into view, the contents inside of it moving. I was puzzled, but why should I have been? Every detail of our games we conjured were not the least of bit humane and the very thought of it sent a rush of fire tingling through my veins. _What could the significance of this game be? _

I approached the bag with caution before easing it open, fully prepared for any sudden attack. But it never came. Inside of it squirmed a reawakening _passenger_ who recently suffered from some sort of sedation technique, which screamed of my peculiar teachings. _If this was his way of showing flattery he definitely got my utmost attention. _

"You! Who are you?"

I snapped back into reality. Having been distracted by my owns thoughts I hadn't even noticed that the unidentified individual had, moments before, removed himself from the bag and placed a Glock with inches of my head, readying it for fire if necessary.

"Answer me!" The man growled, his voice gravely. "Do you have any idea who you are messing with?"

I could see him more clearly now. His jaw line was stern and covered with spatters of blood from one of his most recent victims, several scars and evidence encrusted onto his clothing and form to help justify his undetermined deeds. The rest of him was rough in appearance also, but, honestly, the details weren't of importance at this given moment. All I knew was that I had a loaded gun pointed to my head by the hands of some godforsaken stranger and Randall was no where to be found.

"I said." He snarled, bringing his face closer to mine while spitting out his last words. "Do you have any idea who you are messing with?"

"No, I don't actually." I cocked my head, glaring back at him with a smug facial expression. "But do you?"

Within seconds I had escaped the lock he had had on me, giving me an opening to defend myself. I gripped both of my hands on his lower arms in attempt to divert the rounds he fired away from me, almost emptying out the entirety of it into the environment around us before I made a dire mistake in my frantic movements, giving him an opportunity that he took without hesitation. The last bullet branded into my thigh, letting a groan of incomparable pain escape from the depths of my throat and sending a sweltering increase of adrenaline through me, giving me enough strength to push us both from the safety of the dock and into the fair depths of the water that had surrounded it.

The man's feet scrambled for leverage below the surface of the lake as I had him at my mercy, submerging the total upper part of his body in an attempt to drown him with his screams, that is, until, the tables turned.  
A searing pain erupted through the bliss of my adrenaline rush and had returned to the length of my leg, revealing that my enemy's distraught hand movements had found an momentarily advantage to allow him release of his fate.

He didn't waste an ounce of his time.

My design for his fate was immediately used against me, leaving my lungs screaming for the air that it needed. It didn't take long for the darkness to engulf me.

I grunted as I gradually regained consciousness, my eyes fluttering open almost simultaneously with my muscles as I flexed them to test my injuries. My thigh was the already identified injury, but a new pain revealed itself as it shot through my head while I positioned myself into a sitting position, keeping my hand gripped onto the back of my head for some sort of comfort.

"Didn't think I'd make it in time Matthew." A familiar voice rumbled.

I already knew who it was before turning around. Randall. So I cautiously turned around, due to my injuries, to face him, expecting to see him in _"flesh and blood" , _but the result was not what I had assumed.

Instead his form was covered with the exoskeleton of whom he perceived he was, engineered perfectly to fit himself to his own needs. And his needs were far from what people would call sane. His needs were to lacerate and dismember- to reflect on a desired savagery. And he had done so on the being that had attempted to execute me.


	4. Chapter 4: Needed Release

**Warning: **This specific chapter (and others to come) contains sexual content. However, it's nothing too extreme. That's what the next chapter is for.

**Matthew Brown x Randall Tier** (slash)  
(If you're not a fan then I'd suggest you don't read it.)

**  
**Important Notes:**  
I decided to switch it up a bit and switch between 1st person and 3rd person. (Where it says _Randall. _is where 3rd person begins.) It's a lot easier to carry out/explain a story that way.

I wanted to make their relationship a "feed off one another" sort of relationship. Meaning they use each other for a variety of releases.  
(Whether that be lust, anger, fear, etc.) It's something I can't really put into words, but hopefully you'll see the pattern throughout the chapters.

* * *

Apparently I had not stayed conscious long enough to witness Randall taking me home, because here I was now, sprawled out on my leather couch. The living room fan hummed lightly, as did the night creatures from beyond the safety of my house, but that was all that came to ear. There was no evidence of Randall being present. "Randall?" I coughed out, my voice still proceeding to be hoarse. _Where could he be?  
_I gripped the vertical cushions of my couch and hoisted myself up into a sitting position to get a better view of my surroundings, my leg twinging in pain at the sudden movements. Still I saw no sign of him.

"_Damnit Randall." _I growled to myself. "Where the hell are you?" Being forced to limp due to my wounded leg I stumbled off the couch and began to search for him through the house, still finding no luck.

_Jesus Christ Randall. Why couldn't you have just stayed here with me instead of running off elsewhere?  
_I slouched against the narrow hallway that lead to my room and slightly raised my leg up to inspect the wound that that dumb ass stranger had created. It looked suspiciously clean and a few stitches were present to keep the excess tearing together, providing proof that it had been tended to by someone who was experienced with the medical field. Randall must have tended to me before he left, but at the thought I didn't recall Randall having any medical experience.

* * *

_Randall._

Matthew grunted, licking the outside of his teeth while glancing about the hallway in thought. There was something about him that sent chills through Matthew's bones. Something that made Matthew's body become electrified in an uncomfortable, yet pleasing way.

Before he knew it his own hand had betrayed him and had traveled down his torn jeans, unbuttoning them and unzipping them before removing and gripping the throbbing member that ached to be touched. He then gripped it tightly and steadily pumped himself, imagining how Randall would do it to him. Rough, more than likely, show casing his more animalistic tendencies that got the best of him. The thought of Randall gripping him in all the right places- _Fuck. _Making him ashamedly moan at the frowned upon pleasure that he enacted upon him. It didn't take but seconds for Matthew's thoughts to send him over the edge, forcing himself to spill his own hot, sticky semen into his own hand.  
Matthew grunted in relief before allowing a "_Fucking Hell, Randall." t_o escape his lips, his tensed muscles now relaxing themselves in the process as he released himself.

"Fucking hell is right." Grumbled a voice from the entrance of the hallway. "You know you should _really_ double check your surroundings before having a go at yourself Matthew- But I can't say I didn't enjoy watching you rough yourself up for me." Randall finally emerged into Matthew's clear line of sight, revealing that he no longer wore the skeleton of the monster he created. Instead he wore a dark blue t-shirt that clung against his build and a randomly selected pair of Matthew's dark blue jeans that didn't bother to hide any selection of Randall's anatomy. "I suggest you check your closet next time."

Matthew's expression reflected amusement as he opened his mouth slightly and licked his lower canines, letting a throaty noise come out.  
"Didn't think a male of your size would fit."

"_You'd_ be surprised at what I can manage." Randall remarked, slowly closing the distance between himself and Matthew. "- And by the looks of it you've already gotten a little taste of it."


End file.
